


like pearls

by pinkmalady



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26920819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkmalady/pseuds/pinkmalady
Summary: this is a short voyeuristic James Joyce-inspired personal piece? it's about unrequited love or lust or whatever, basically.(note: there are some references to/talk about sex, but nothing super explicit. there's also a bit of cigarette smoking present.)
Kudos: 1





	like pearls

His fingers graze across a page, across the screen, his lips solemn and pursed. His brow is furrowed, and he is, in fact, we are, alone. His eyes glide down the page hungrily.

He turns a page, and his fingers dance across it, around it, so gently, so softly, and I wish his hands would graze my face like that, and his hands seem so large holding that tiny book so gently, and then he's back to reading so sternly.

He adjusts his glasses with his free hand, and his eyes are pearls, yes, they're like blue pearls. The pupils dilated like pearls, too, and I know that it's pretentious to make such comparisons but it's the only description that does them, him, justice. And his eyes travel down the pages, consuming the small book quickly.

I wish his eyes would gaze upon me in that way, but I am not his book. I am not anything at all. But I wish! I wish he would love me and touch me and feel me and hold me and know me like his books, like this, like his damned glasses! 

His glasses belong on my shelves and his pearls belong on my neck!

He runs a finger across a page, scanning it with darkened eyes. His fingers are so sturdy and long and sinuous as they run along the page and I wish he'd touch me with them. I want him to hold me like that, with his hands on my hips, and touch me and love me and hold me so badly, and I want him to take me to bed and fuck me so hard I can't see, I can't breathe, for I want to be his little book, even though he can't read me behind the glass! 

He hums and pinches the bridge of his nose. He shuts the book, softly, always, and sets it on the side table next to him. 

He lights a cigarette, and the way it hangs from his lips, tilted downward. Lips so thin around it, and I want them on mine! And the ways he sucks in and breathes out and breathes in the smoke. Eyes cast downward, too, lost, somewhere else, distant, and they glisten like pearls. They glisten like pearls!

Holding the cigarette between his fingers, oh, he sighs, and I press myself against the glass to hear his voice better, even if it's just that. Quick and soft and gone. He gently shakes off some of the ash from the tip of the cig, and it hits the ashtray without a sound.

His fingers curled around the cigarette are so beautiful, and I wish I could kiss his hand. I want to draw it and draw it until I run out of lead. And I'd never show him, but I know he'd love it. I know he'd wrap his arms around me and kiss me with his lips, and touch me and hold me and love me, and his fingers would trace every inch of my body, as I did to him with my pencil, because look what I made for him! He is a painting, a pearl portrait, like from a silly book! If I am his little book, waiting on the side table, then he is a portrait, cigarette in hand!

He runs a hand over his eyes, and I see tears dripping down his cheeks. His hands shake as he puts out his cigarette. His eyes are dark and damp and the pearls are so dim and I want to help him! I want to know him! He removes his glasses, still trembling, and sobs into his hands and I want to hold him and help him! But I can't! He can't see me! His pearls are bloodshot and I want to know.

I wish he'd love me, with his hands on my hips, so warm and soft, holding me and fucking me and making love to me so gently, reading me and knowing me and I'm crying, too, but he can't read through the glass, and goddamn it! I can't see through the pearls!

And when it fades to black and the credits roll, I can't read them! I can't see through my tears. And I wish he was here, holding me, loving me, reading me. And I want to know him then, so badly.


End file.
